Honoring the Dead
by Eleneri
Summary: Third in the Rose Shepard Series; In the aftermath of Eden Prime, Shepard takes some personal time to honor the fallen, and discovers that friendships begun under fire are hard to break. Starring Captain Anderson, Kaidan, and Ashley. Some foreshadowing of future loves, and an exploration of the friendship developing between the marines.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Disclaimer:** Mass Effect and all associated characters are the property of Bioware. No infringement is intended by this work of respectful fanfiction.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Honoring the Dead takes place in the Rose Shepard story continuity, following Loneliness of Command and The Fan, and before Shepard goes to see the Council the first time to accuse Saren of the attack on Eden Prime.

* * *

_**The Citadel**_

_**Bachjret Ward**_

_**Cerulean Hotel**_

_**Room 582**_

* * *

Steam still clung to the edges of the bathroom mirror as Commander Rose Shepard dragged a brush through the heavy length of her still-damp hair, smoothing the waves into ruthless order before twisting the lot of them into a regulation-neat bun. She grimly studied her own face in the mirror, noting the paler than normal skin, the faintly purple circles under her dark brown eyes. "Warpaint it is," she muttered to the worn woman in the mirror. "You look like shit, Shepard."

Five minutes later, concealer and kohl applied, a light coat of gloss over her otherwise unpainted mouth, Rose nodded to her reflection before striding out of the bathroom. Her dress blues had been pressed and laid neatly over the back of the single chair in the stingy, stubbornly generic hotel room. Dressing in them took five minutes, far too little time before she turned to confront the small, rectangular case sitting on the bed behind her. She reached for it, but then hesitated, her hand hovering outstretched just above the small black handle. Her fingers clenched into a fist, and Shepard closed her eyes for a second.

Alliance N-level operatives, especially the 7s, were supposed to be made of titanium, cruising through life silently like bipedal sharks; when presented with a goal, they were expected to fall upon it with arms and armor and sheer bloody-minded determination, and they were damn well supposed to succeed. It was everything she'd always done in her life; succeed beyond expectation, survive beyond reason, and Shepard was very good at what she did. The flip side of that equation, of course, was that Shepard was always surrounded by death.

She fucking hated death.

It was an insane thought for someone like her; she knew that. Shepard was someone who dealt in death, or with it, every day. Even if she didn't have her hands on a high caliber sniper rifle, she was well aware that every decision she made on a battlefield, every time she led a shore party or sent out a squad, she was dancing with death. Either hers, theirs or their enemies'. Someone was going down into that long, dark, bloody night and not coming back.

Shepard had been thinking about that a lot since Eden Prime. Maybe it was the beacon's visions, boiling like a nest of maddened insects in her mind whenever she wasn't paying the strictest attention to something else. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, because the Maker knew she hadn't had any decent rest in days without shuddering awake from bloody nightmares.

To be honest, she knew she was thinking about Eden Prime because it was still too painful to think of Akuze. Eden Prime was the more recent mission. It had definitely been the more political mission. The stakes had been infinitely higher on Eden Prime, and it was a mission she had technically failed.

But Akuze had seen the start of what she had started to call The Ritual.

Shepard hadn't been the only officer who'd gone to Akuze. She certainly hadn't been the only marine. But by the time they'd extracted, she had been the only officer, the only marine, the only sentient thing living on the surface of that damned planet, and the "living" part had been a little touch and go. She'd managed to live when she hadn't really been expected to, like she'd managed to survive everything else that had happened in her life, and in the end, she'd been the only one left to stand over the empty coffins, to salute with hands that still bore the marks of battle as the melancholy notes of Taps played those fifty brave souls into eternity.

So, no, Shepard didn't like death, but since that day, she'd developed her own way of dealing with it.

The hand that had hesitated over the case unclenched, and grasped the black handle firmly. The case was as light as ever. It was just the lump in her chest that seemed too heavy to carry. That was Rose's burden. It was Commander Shepard who opened her hotel door and walked out into the corridor.

Commander Shepard stopped dead, for once, completely surprised.

Decked out in immaculate dress blues, Williams and Alenko were side by side in the hallway of her hotel room, at parade rest. Waiting for her.

Alenko inclined his dark head respectfully. "Commander."

Shepard's fingers tightened around the handle of her case. It was the only sign of her unease that she allowed to show. "I thought I gave you two liberty for the night, Lieutenant."

"You did, ma'am." Now it was the gunnery chief who spoke. "This is what we're choosing to do with it." She touched her comm. "Captain? The commander is ready."

"Commander." The deep voice that resonated in her comm implant was unmistakably that of Captain David Anderson. "Bring your squad and report to my office."

Only her very deep respect for Anderson made Shepard bite back a comment about being on personal time. "On my way, Captain." She pinned her officers with a look. "All right. Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Citadel**_

_**The Presidium**_

_**Embassy Quarters, Human Offices**_

* * *

A tall, broad-shouldered man in Alliance blues, Captain David Anderson stood behind his desk in the embassy office he shared with Ambassador Udina. He nodded to Shepard when she came in with her team. "Commander."

Shepard approached, came to attention exactly twenty feet inside the door and two feet in front of the desk. "Sir."

Anderson observed her for a moment, noting the subtle signs of stress under the perfect military bearing. "At ease, Shepard. This isn't an official call."

The commander didn't relax. Neither did the officers behind her. Anderson hid his smile with the ease of long practice. As long as he'd known her, Shepard had always had the nearly preternatural knack of gaining her people's loyalty. It was very nearly as good as her ability to antagonize politicians. At the moment, though, she wasn't quite poker-faced enough to mask every sign of irritation, and he read them on her.

"I said, at ease, Commander." Anderson put a little more emphasis in his sonorous voice, and very deliberately waited until she obeyed before speaking again. "I realize you probably don't like me horning in on your leave time. I damn well know that you aren't going to like that I know about the little ritual you had planned."

Shepard's eyebrows actually shot up. "How did you - ?"

Anderson waved one hand dismissively. "I keep an eye on my proteges, Commander. That's all you need to know."

"With respect, sir, if you're bugging my shower, I'm going to have to shoot you and risk the court martial."

Anderson laughed outright, a loud burst of sound that boomed in the room like thunder, his sudden grin lighting up his weathered face. "I'm old enough to be your father, Shepard. No shower bugs." He wiped a hand across his face. "I was an N long before you ever thought about picking up a sniper rifle. I know the score." Then his voice lowered, sobered. "You think you're the first officer who's had trouble handling a loss?"

"With respect, Captain," and Shepard's tone did, in fact, convey respect, even if it came flavored with a heavy dose of annoyance, "as you pointed out, I'm on my leave, and this is private."

He met her stare for stare. "You're in dress blues, Commander, because if I know you, you want to pay the maximum amount of respect to the people we lost. Maybe you didn't think of it this way, but the minute you put on that uniform, you made this Alliance business. But this isn't about politics or the boundaries of leave time." In those few words, Anderson very deliberately levelled the playing field. "This is about getting your head straight and your heart at peace. I'm not saying this isn't the right thing to do. I'm just saying..." Anderson blew out a heavy breath and realized that he was, in fact, getting old. "You're not the only one who needs this."

Anderson saw Shepard's eyes darken, her shoulders droop that tiny fraction that no one who didn't know her well would ever have noticed, and watched the way she looked back at her squad. Lieutenant Alenko might have been carved from marble, he held himself so rigid, broad shoulders back and jaw squared off at a perfect right angle. Chief Williams was a resolute Amazon in her blues, slightly less regimented in her stance, but there was pride and pain burning in her eyes. She glanced at Anderson, who nodded slightly.

"Commander Shepard." Williams had to take a moment to tame the quaver in her voice. "Permission to read the names of the men and women of the 212 for the service?"

Shepard turned on her heel to face her people, and Anderson felt something warm move through his chest as he watched his protege's stance actually visibly loosen, her expression soften a little. _How far you've come, child. Never thought I'd see it happen, but I did hold out hope. Yes, I did. These aren't your soldiers anymore. These people are your family._

_ It's about damn time you let someone in._

"Permission granted, Chief." Shepard put a hand on the other woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't invite you myself." She tilted her chin a little and looked at Alenko. "Lieutenant?"

The biotic kept his eyes front and center. "Permission to read the colonists' names, and that of Corporal Richard Jenkins, ma'am."

"Granted, Lieutenant." Shepard put her hand on his shoulder, just as she had the gunnery chief's. A brief biotic spark leapt up from the contact, only a tiny blue flare in the low lighting of the office, but she looked at him and he looked at her, and it was only for a microsecond, but Anderson saw. More, he recognized it for what it was.

_Trouble. This will be trouble, for them and for me. More for them, I think. Neither of them are easy people to get to know, and neither are uncomplicated personalities. _Anderson took a few seconds to think about it._ The rules are against them, the job's against them. But... yeah. Yeah. I think they'd fit._

The fleeting thought of another time, another place, and a woman with sun in her hair and smiling eyes floated into his mind. It took a suprising amount of effort to banish that woman's image from his thoughts. _ I had my chance. I blew it. These two are going to need each other. I can feel it in my bones. The least I can do is be there in their corner._

* * *

In the end, the ritual was a simple thing, partially because it needed to be something Shepard could do by herself, and partially because it wasn't the trappings that mattered, but the intent. Shepard had brought a candle - a real one, not one of the holographic copies commonly used. Anderson dimmed the overhead lights to near twilight darkness and lit the thing, placing it in the center of his desk, and then the four of them stood at attention as the names of the fallen were read. Ashley read the names of the soldiers she'd served with in the 212. Kaidan read the names of the colonists lost in the spaceport attack, adding Jenkins' name to his litany of the lost. Shepard read the list of the scientists lost to the geth and their transforming spikes, her low voice quiet and strong in the silence of the office. When she got to the final name on her list, she paused. Took a deep breath, then exhaled.

"I..." She licked her lips, remembering that for the first time in the history of this ritual, she wasn't alone. She corrected herself with a small sense of dislocation. It was so odd not to be alone. "_We_... will mourn you. We will trust that we will meet again in a place far better than this, guided by the hand of a being far greater than we are. We will avenge you, all of you." Her voice, though it had trembled slightly at first, firmed with resolve. "You who are fallen, but never forgotten, rest in peace."

Absolute silence reigned in Anderson's office as Shepard opened the case she'd brought with her from her hotel room. The flickering candlelight gleamed on the three slender silver pieces of a flute. She assembled it with the quick expertise of long practice, then raised it to her lips with an elegant motion and closed her eyes.

The first slow, resonant notes of Taps floated into the air, claiming the silence. The other three marines snapped to salute, holding the honor as the simple, twenty-four note melody swelled around them, then drifted off.

Shepard held the last note for a few seconds longer than normal, until her breath was gone, and then she just held her flute to her lips. She could see the candlelight even through her closed eyes, soft golden shadows moving across her face, and she knew that she was crying. But when she looked up, she saw the others just starting to lower their salutes, and she wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes.

"God, skipper." Ashley used the heel of her hand to mop tears off her cheeks. "You do this every time you lose people?"

Shepard busied herself with disassembling her flute and placing it back in its velvet-lined case, and her voice was controlled, even if her hands were still shaking. "When it's a really big loss, yes." The others she just remembered. Always remembered. She closed the lid of her instrument case, making a mental note to clean the flute later. "It helps."

None of them needed to ask what it helped with.

"Commander." Anderson's voice was even deeper, and held a uncharacteristicaly subdued note. "It's... been an honor. Thank you for letting an old man invite himself into this private space of yours."

"Sir." Flute case in her left hand, Shepard saluted with her right, then offered that same hand to Anderson. "Thanks for browbeating me into inviting you."

As she'd hoped, as she'd planned, everyone chuckled. Except Kaidan, who was still looking at her with dark, inscrutable eyes that saw entirely too much.

He didn't look away when she looked at him, just continued studying her. He looked tall and strong and almost unbearably solemn, the light of that lone candle dancing across his face, gilding his olive skin and the five o clock shadow hugging his strong jaw, highlighting his knife-edge cheekbones. Finally, his full mouth curved into a small smile. "Commander."

"Lieutenant." She nodded to him, then deliberately looked at Ashley. "You still have liberty until tomorrow morning, you know."

"Yeah, and I'm going to go change out of my dress uniform and into an actual dress, and go make use of that liberty." The chief shot an expectant look at Kaidan. "Come on, lieutenant. We've honored our fallen, now let's go celebrate them."

"Commander? Captain? You coming?"

Shepard told herself that four little words in a low, raspy voice should not have such a profound effect on her. "I think I'll beg off. "

"Listen to them, Shepard. And don't worry." Anderson waved a dismissal, then busied himself snuffing out the candle that was dripping wax on his desk. "I think I can safely say that this will go no further than the four of us. After all, you are on leave."

Shepard snorted out a small laugh. "Now you remember, sir?"

"With all the browbeating, I forgot." He clapped her on the shoulder and handed her the spent candle. "Come on. Let's hit Flux. I'll buy the first round."


	3. Chapter 3

**_The Citadel_**

**_Zakera Ward_**

**_Flux Nightclub_**

* * *

Flux was a nice nightclub, David Anderson mused. It had the three prerequisites a smart marine looked for in a bar; friendly bartender, a dance floor, and most importantly, a defensible table.

He didn't make a habit of coming in - Maker knew there was too much to do and not enough time to do any of it in - but when he did, he always beelined for the table on the second floor balcony that sat off to the right, overlooking the dance floor. That it coincidentally also gave him a strategic view of the club's only door, the massive window, and the quasar machines, as well as sat behind a waist high wall was, in Anderson's mind, a benefit.

He leaned back in his chair and considered the other marine at the table. "Stop looking so uncomfortable, son. It's a club, not a firefight."

"To be honest, captain, I'm a lot more comfortable in a firefight." Alenko drew wet circles on the tabletop with the cool condensate on the bottom of his beer bottle. "I'm just not... ah... sure of the protocol for this kind of a situation."

Anderson's deep laugh cut easily through the noises that usually populated Flux. Over at the quasar machines, Doran made the inquisitive volus head tilt that was the equivalent of a human's raised eyebrow, but shrugged when he saw who'd made the noise. "Having a drink with a commanding officer after a memorial service is that unusual to you, lieutenant? I'm surprised."

"I've been lucky. I haven't lost a lot of people in my career. Well, until recently, anyway. And that memorial service was a little... unusual. Sir."

"That it was, but that's Shepard for you. Girl's got her own way of doing things." Anderson sampled his bourbon. It was passable, but he missed being stationed dirtside on Earth, where he could occasionally get his hands on some good Old Rip Van Winkle's Kentucky gold in a bottle. Distilleries that had been around for over two hundred years knew how to do things right. "The brass may not always agree with her methods, but she's an N for a reason. She gets results."

Over by the door, a small chorus of appreciative whistles broke out from a few asari as two human women walked in. Anderson and Kaidan both looked over the wall at the same time. Both women were tall and dark haired, one poured into a scoop-necked, siren-red dress that ended at mid-thigh, the other in a flowing black tunic and dark leggings.

Anderson didn't bother to wave to attract their attention, and knew exactly how many seconds it took before Shepard saw where he was. _Girl still has that sniper's eye. And speaking of eyes..._ He hid his smile in his glass of bourbon as he observed Alenko. _The boy's got a pretty good poker face, but it just slipped. He looks poleaxed. Wonder if I looked like that the first time I saw Kaylee. Hell, I probably looked worse._ A deep chuckle catching in his throat, he clapped a big hand on Kaidan's shoulder. "You'll do, Alenko. You'll do just fine."

Kaidan blinked and found his voice. "Pardon, sir?"

Anderson boomed a laugh and grinned again. "I'm going to get drinks, lieutenant. Be right back. If we're lucky, Doran will have some ouzo stashed away somewhere. Shepard can be particular about her poison."

Kaidan tugged at the collar of his dress blues as soon as Anderson left. When Ash and the commander had left to change - more because of the chief's insistence than any genuine desire on the commander's part to get into civvies - he hadn't followed suit. It had seemed, well, rude to ditch Captain Anderson. Now he wished he had taken the opportunity to dress down. The formal coat felt stranglehold tight, like it was shrink-wrapped to his shoulders.

He swore he could feel the collar tighten around his throat like a noose as the commander and Chief Williams made it up the stairs. Ingrained manners made Kaidan stand and offer a chair to each lady; humor made him smile a bit when he did it, because he'd seen one of those ladies snipe a geth's head off from 600 meters, and the other one take on a contingent of drones wounded and armed with only a sidearm.

"Gee, LT, thanks." Ashley flashed him a dazzling smile and sat down. Her straight dark hair was loose around her shoulders, she'd slicked her mouth with an invitational red to match her dress, and she wore a light, floral perfume dabbed in all the right places. Kaidan did his absolute best to keep his gaze aboveboard; the chief's dress was a too little low-cut for his comfort.

Commander Shepard hesitated a fraction of a second, as if she waasn't sure what to do, then settled in the chair he held for her. On a hunch, Kaidan had chosen the chair in the back corner, which would put her back to the wall and give her the greatest field of vision over the club. It was also the one deepest in shadow, and he'd thought from the moment he saw it that it would be the most comfortable spot for her. From the little smile on her face, he'd guessed right. Kaidan suppressed the small, odd flare of warmth in his chest the same way he'd suppressed it when she'd absolved him of wrongdoing with the beacon on Eden Prime. Just like then, it took a lot of effort.

"Where's Anderson?" Shepard had to raise her voice slightly to compensate for the music in the background.

"He said he was getting drinks, ma'am." Kaidan hoped it wouldn't take too long. He wasn't exactly much of a conversationalist unless it was a tech-related topic, and nightclubs weren't entirely comfortable places for him to be. "He, ah... mentioned seeing if Doran had any ouzo."

"What's that?" Ashley leaned back in her chair, which did interesting things to the way her dress clung - or not - to her figure.

"Greek liquor." Shepard fiddled with one of the wide silver bracelets on her wrist. It occured to Kaidan that he had no idea if that was a nervous tell or if she was just unused to wearing jewelry. He couldn't imagine Commander Shepard having a nervous habit, though. She seemed so cool most of the time.

"Hmm. Never had it. You Greek, ma'am?"

"Amazingly, in this day and age of everyone being a little of everything, yeah. Mom was at least half-Greek."

Kaidan watched the commander's body language change, stiffen, and hid his frown with a swig of beer. "What about you, Williams? I know you're colony bred, but you gotta have some old family stories about where your people come from."

Now it was Ash's turn to look uncomfortable and defensive. "Yeah. We're... ah, we're a mix. Mostly Spanish and Italian, with some English thrown in. At least that's what family lore says. And my mom can cook up a storm, so hey. Maybe it's all true."

"Really? Maybe we should trade recipes." Damn, he really was pathetic at this small talk stuff. This was just all-around awkward.

Ashley's look of surprise was less than gratifying. "Wait, you cook, LT?"

"Well, yeah. Biotic." He shrugged, a little embarassed. "If you gotta eat twice as much as everyone else, you'd better know how to cook. That way, you don't starve."

"You sound like my mom."

"Hell, chief, I sound like _my_ mom."

They shared a chuckle, and the awkward feeling that had enveloped the table lifted a little. Not all the way, not with why they were all here to begin with. But even though it was early days, they were starting to feel like a unit.

"I see you found us, commander." Anderson's footsteps had been disguised by the pounding bass of the music, but the only one who hadn't seen him coming was Ashley, who had her back to the stairs. And even then, she'd probably read his approach in Kaidan's automatically respectful straightening.

"I did. Nice table, sir."

"Yeah. It's why I come here." Anderson slid into his chair and spun squat glasses containing some sort of clear liquid onto the table with a barman's flair. "Embassy Lounge doesn't have much in the way of cover."

"With respect, sir, I drink to forget politicians. I don't want to socialize with them."

Anderson's booming laugh rolled out over the dance floor below them. "Believe me, if you hate them now, you'll hate them worse when you make your captain's bars."

"Never gonna happen." Shepard shook her head. "I'm staying a commander for the rest of my life."

"You always were a stubborn ass." Anderson sat forward in his chair. "As ranking officer, I'm proposing a toast." He stood, and the rest of the marines followed suit, raising their glasses as they did. "To the fallen. May they find their way home."

"To the fallen." It was a four-part chorus, completely in sync, and somehow managed to convey their grief and respect and letting go in three words. They knocked back their drinks in almost perfect unison. Shepard shot a dirty look at the captain almost as soon as she swallowed. "That was not ouzo, Anderson."

A grin slid across the captain's dark face. "We're a long way from home, Shepard. We've all gotta learn to make do."

"Maybe." Shepard gave a speculative look at her glass. "But asari vodka never tastes right."

Anderson shrugged. "Eh, you learn to like it. Sure beats ryncol. That stuff will ignite if you throw it hard enough. Now," and he put his glass down on the table, "I'm going to go make Doran happy by losing at quasar. As you were, you three. Commander Shepard, you have the bridge."

Shepard sank back into her chair as quickly as she could without looking too obvious. Chief Williams, on the other hand, put one hand on her hip and looked at Kaidan. "Think I'll try my luck on the dance floor. Interested, LT?"

Kaidan shook his head. "I'm gonna take a raincheck, Chief." He sat down, lifting his beer to his lips. "I need more alcohol in me before I embarass myself on the dance floor."

"Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind." Ashley sauntered away, hips swinging.

Shepard's dark, arching eyebrows were practically in her hairline. "That's... blatant. Somehow, I didn't expect that from Williams."

Kaidan went back to drawing on the tabletop with his beer bottle, focusing on precisely lining up how the condensation circles interlinked with each other. "Commander, a couple of days ago, Williams saw her entire unit wiped out on Eden Prime. Right now, I think she wants something to remind her that she's alive. I can understand that, but I'm just not willing to be that something."

"Not your type, Lieutenant?"

"She's my subordinate, ma'am. It wouldn't be right. Besides, I like her." Vastly uncomfortable, Kaidan shrugged, and wished he hadn't. His formal jacket really was feeling like a straightjacket. "Look, Williams is a good egg, and she shouldn't have to work with me wondering if I'm either going to write her up or expect a repeat performance from her later that she might not care to give. Frat regs are there for a good reason. They protect people from mistakes."

Shepard tapped slender fingers against her empty vodka tumbler, playing a rhythm on the glass with her short, unpainted nails. "That's a very thoughtful, all-angles-considered response, lieutenant."

Kaidan allowed himself a short, quiet laugh. "If that's a nice way of saying I think too much, ma'am, you're probably right."

"That's not a bad thing, you know."

"That I think too much, or that you're right?"

Shepard laughed a little, and there was that warm little glow in his chest again. Kaidan blamed it on the beer. "Both." She stopping fiddling with her glass and put her elbows on the table, leaning in a little. The blue light from the sculpture that hung above the dance floor washed her profile like liquid ice, and he thought, not for the first time, that she was just so damn beautiful. Certainly not perfect, but definitely beautiful. "So, you doing all right, Alenko? I know Jenkins was a friend. It must have been rough to lose him."

Kaidan looked down at the table, watching the colored ceiling lights coruscate in the watery circles he'd been drawing. "We all knew the score when we dropped onto Eden Prime. I wish he hadn't rushed ahead. I wish there was something we could have done to save him. But sometimes... hell, ma'am. Sometimes bad things happen, and there's nothing you can do about it but weather it and come out the other side alive. So do I have regrets? Yeah. But I'm good. Really."

Shepard looked at him for a long moment, her dark eyes appraising. He did his level best to meet her gaze head-on, wanting to convey just how sincere he was about what he'd said.

Finally, she nodded, almost to herself. "You're a solid soldier, Alenko. I'm glad to have you with me."

If Kaidan had entertained the thought that he might have left his blushing tendency back on the_ Normandy_, well... he'd apparently been wrong. This time, though, he knew Flux's rosy ambient mood lighting would hide the rise of color in his cheeks. "Thank you, commander." Kaidan took refuge in his beer, but the eidetic memory he'd inherited from his mother and which made both his tech work and his art hobby a pleasure also made it impossible for him to get Shepard out of his mind.

She wasn't dressed to the teeth like Chief Williams, but somehow, she held his attention far longer. Maybe it was because he could tell what was driving the chief at the moment and the fact that he actually_ liked _Williams made him not want to mess things up by sleeping with her, or maybe it was just that, being the analytical type that he was, Kaidan tended to appreciate the subtle as opposed to the blatant. _Yeah, subtle things like the way those silver cuffs the commander's wearing make her wrists look slender and feminine, and when she wears her hair all piled on her head like that, the curve of her neck looks downright edible._

_ Oh, shit._

Apparently, it was entirely physiologically possible to be partially mortified and partially turned on at the same time. Kaidan suspected that his blood flow was as confused about which direction to take as he was. No wonder he was getting lightheaded. Beer. He needed more beer. He took a quick swallow, hoping he didn't actually look as desperate as he felt.

Williams was right. He needed to take more shore leave.

"Hey." Shepard leaned forward. "Alenko? You all right?"

Kaidan wasn't particularly religious, but he still knew how to pray, and sent a quick request for extraction to the Almighty. "Uh, yeah. Yes, ma'am. Just... feeling a little off."

"Shit." She frowned. "When was the last time you ate, Kaidan? I know biotics have to refuel pretty often."

He ruthlessly suppressed that warmth in his chest that accompanied her use of his name. "Um... I don't remember. Ma'am."

Shepard uncoiled from her chair. "Sit tight. I'll get you something."

"Ah, no. Really, Commander." Not that Kaidan wanted to stand up right then, as dress blues were not nearly so concealing as a hardsuit when it came to covering a man's dignity. But he really just couldn't let his new XO toddle off and fetch food for the poor, starving biotic whose only real problem wasn't blood sugar levels and suboptimal protein reserves, it was blood flow south of his belt buckle.

Shepard pinned him with a look. "I told you, I was raised Greek. We feed people. Shut up and stay seated, Alenko. That's an order."

"Yes, ma'am," he said sheepishly, and damned himself further by surreptiously admiring the sway of Shepard's hips as she walked away. _Shit._

O o O


	4. Chapter 4

_**Citadel Wards**_

_**Flux Nightclub**_

_**0904 hours**_

* * *

By the time Shepard made it back to the table, drinks and food in hand, Kaidan had himself back under control. Truthfully, he was more than vaguely appalled by his own behavior. This was... this was not like him, he conceded with a grimace that he hid with a pull at his beer. He followed the rules, he kept himself in check, he always had a way out, and he never, ever ogled his commanding officers. Maybe it had been a rough start to the tour, and maybe things were crazier than they should have been, but that was absolutely no excuse for his lapse in discipline.

_Didn't you learn about lapses in discipline in BAaT? Alenko, you asshole._

The memory of those two brutal years at Jump Zero still burned, even after all this time; _Rahna's gentle, dark eyes sheened with pain, incomprehension, and the beginnings of shock, and the way she scuttled away from him. The look of surprise on Vyrnnus' face that was still there when they came to put his corpse on a stretcher. The howling of his broken ribs as he breathed in shallow pants and the taste of his own blood in his mouth, and the way no one would touch him, not even to help him up. He'd learned, then, what it was to be an outcast among freaks._

Kaidan wasn't the kind of man who had to learn lessons like that more than once.

He made himself meet Shepard's dark gaze levelly as soon as she got back to their table. He had to clear his throat before managing the words, and the weakness annoyed him a little. "Commander, I apologize for my unprofessional behavior."

She dropped a basket of what looked and smelled like a reasonable facsimilie of loaded nachos on the table, and waved off his apology before presenting him with a fresh beer. "Relax, Alenko. We're off duty, we're on liberty, we're in a club, and I've just managed to peel Williams off the dance floor to have something to eat. No apologies. You didn't do anything wrong."

_Oh, yes I did. And I want to do it again, which is beyond unprofessional. I want to watch you. I want to study the way you move, catfooted and sure, like you're permanently ready to sprint into cover. I want to remember the way the light falls on your hair and glints off your jewelry. I want to watch the way that soft black top drapes over your breasts, and..._

_ Maker, Alenko, what are you doing? _

His common sense somehow managed to reactivate about the time Kaidan realized his hands were itching with a building biotic static field. _ What... the... hell...?_ He clenched his hands into fists below the table It had been years, a decade, since he'd lost control like that. Since a woman had affected him this damn bad, jangling his brain and twisting his hormones into a sharp, hot spiral.

He had to get off this train of thought before it derailed and lopped off a few limbs. _Safe topic change, Alenko. Find one. Now. _ "You're not rescuing Captain Anderson from the clutches of the quasar machines, ma'am?"

Shepard let out a little laugh in her rich alto. She sounded much different when she was off-duty; the rich tones and inflections of her speaking voice tended to be flattened by the crisp, no-nonsense replies he associated with her command style. "Are you kidding? He loves quasar, and he outranks me. I didn't make it through the N program without learning to recognize when a battle's hopeless." She slid into her seat as Ashley came up the stairs. "Hey, Williams. Grab some chow. Hope you like nachos. Or, the Citadel's version of nachos, anyway."

"Any chow I don't need a meat identifier for is great by me, Commander. Especially if there's cold beer involved." Hair curling damply against her skin, smelling of a mixture of clean sweat and spicy perfume, Williams rolled her beer bottle against her forehead. "Ah. Cold beer. The omnitool of the club world. Incredibly useful for so many applications." She dropped into her seat and drank thirstily. "Man, I needed this."

"The beer? Or this?" Kaidan indicated their surroundings with the twirl of one long finger.

"Both. Seriously. I needed..." The chief sighed and looked down at the table. Her dark hair veiled one side of her face. "I guess I needed to feel something good again."

"Ashley." Shepard reached across the table and touched the other woman's hand. "It's okay. How you feel, it's okay. It's normal, and it fades. It won't ever go away, but it won't bite this hard forever."

Williams looked nonplussed, but didn't pull her hand away. Kaidan was quietly jealous of the fact that the chief could casually touch someone without shocking their hair curly. "No offense, ma'am, but you're an N7. Your definition of normal is probably a little looser than mine is."

Shepard gave the other woman's fingers a squeeze before withdrawing. "It's not that. It's my definition of "boring" you're going to have to worry about. Unless you want to request a transfer."

"Are you kidding?" Ashley's dark brown eyes went wide and she shoved her hair back behind her ear so she had an unobstructed view of her commanding officer. "Transfer off the finest warship in the Alliance fleet? Transfer away from the command of two legendary Ns? I may be just a groundpounder, commander, but I'm not dumb."

Shepard grinned quietly into her glass, then took a drink. "Just checking your level of crazy, chief. I think you'll fit right in with the crew."

"Thanks, ma'am. That means a lot, coming from you."

Kaidan laughed out loud before he could stop himself, and Shepard smiled at him. His fingers tingled in response, and he clenched them briefly. "Looks like the food is reviving Alenko. Great."

"Yeah, great." Ashley munched on a nacho. "Hmm. Not bad. So, when do I get either of you on the dance floor?"

Shepard winced. "Ah, not happening, chief."

"Come on, commander. It's not even that crowded." The other woman's tone turned coaxing. "I promise to keep anyone from asking for an autograph."

Shepard shook her head. The silver hoops in her ears glinted in the mood lighting. "Don't make me pull rank, Williams. No means no. I don't dance."

Ashley pouted. "Don't dance, as in, not in a club? Or don't dance, full stop?"

"That would be the second option."

Kaidan felt his jaw drop, and hid it with a pull at his beer, wishing he had the courage - or insanity - to ask why. The outspoken gunnery chief asked before he could convince himself to remove the foot he'd firmly wedged into his mouth earlier that day on the wards. "Seriously, commander? You don't dance?"

"Pretty sure the volus who owns this place is more graceful on the floor than I am, Williams. Dancing isn't in my skill set. You want me to kill someone barehanded, I know twenty-six ways to do that. Just don't ask me to tango while I'm doing it."

"Wait, wait, wait." Ashley waved a hand. She still looked somewhat shocked. "You're _not _perfect? And you're admitting it?"

"To the squad that had my back on Eden Prime and didn't laugh in my face when that crazy Verner guy wanted an autograph? Hell, yeah." Shepard took a healthy slug of her asari vodka. "However, understand that if that information goes any further than this table, I will have to shoot whoever talks."

"Um, aye-aye, ma'am." Kaidan propped his chin on his hand. He was intrigued in spite of his better judgement. Apparently, this was a safer topic to talk about, and his cautious side could be persuaded to do a little boot removal. "Twenty-six ways to kill someone?"

"Minimum. And that's if they're approaching from the right side, holding a gun. There's more for other situations."

"They teach you that in the N program, ma'am?"

Shepard shrugged. "Well, that isn't the real scary stuff. I had a real mean knitting instructor my first year."

Ashley snorted out a laugh, then tipped her beer bottle in a salute. "I'd love to see your knitting moves, Commander, but for right now, I think I'll try my luck with much less dangerous opponents. There's a cute marine that I left on the dance floor. Maybe he's still there."

Shepard turned and surveyed the dance floor below their table for a second. "Medium blond crew cut, six foot two, nice shoulders, scar on his left ear, right handed? Yeah, he's still there."

Ashley blinked. "If you're trying to intimidate the hell out of me, Commander, it's working."

"Go on, Williams. You're on leave. Have fun."

"Aye, ma'am. Do us both a favor and drink more. I'm still going to try and get you out there." Ashley smoothed her hands over her hips to settle any wrinkles in her dress and sauntered back down to the dance floor.

"So..." Kaidan fiddled with his beer bottle again, watching the way the club's lights strobed along the green glass. "Were you trying to intimidate her, Commander?"

She only raised an eyebrow at him. "Which answer would intimidate _you_ more, Lieutenant?"

He chuckled quietly. "Well, I'm a big fan of honesty, so why don't we stick with that?"

"Fair enough." Shepard leaned back in her chair, pulling up her legs and curling into the conformable padding like a sleek cat. "I wasn't trying."

"Then you have a good eye for detail, ma'am."

"Seems to me that I saw the words _eidetic memory_ in your file, Alenko. So you can't tell me you're impressed by that little parlor trick when you can probably do it better than I can."

"You have a better delivery." _Watch it, Alenko_, his cautious side muttered. _You're skirting the fine line between friendly banter and flirting. _ "How did you tell the right-handedness, though?"

"He was scratching the back of his neck. Odds are good he used his dominant hand for it." Shepard grinned at him, and the gesture had the same impact on his gut as if she'd punched him. Kaidan was starting to think that the most dangerous weapon in this N7's arsenal was her smile.

"Shepard, are you pulling party tricks?" Anderson strode back to the table, sinking into his chair with a gusty sigh.

"No, sir. Just keeping the skills sharp."

The captain accepted the fresh drink she handed him. "Yeah, bullshit. Tell it to someone who hasn't known you for years."

Shepard only raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of, sir, how much lighter is your bank account after your quasar run?"

Anderson helped himself to a particularly loaded nacho and grunted. "Where's your respect for a superior officer?"

"I did call you _sir_."

Anderson let out one of his rolling laughs. "Suppose I can't call you insubordinate, then. Where's the chief?"

"On the dance floor." Shepard glanced over the wall, and Kaidan saw her stiffen. Reflexively, he followed her gaze and saw Ashley talking with a second marine. He seemed to be asking her to dance with him. She shook her dark head, gesturing upstairs. The young man hesitated, then glanced up.

Even over the thumping bass backbeat of the music, Kaidan heard Shepard swear.

Every marine-trained bone in his body was screaming that the plan that popped into his head just then was a terrible idea. The commander was his direct superior. They were off-duty, true, but the regs never went off-duty. He was very, very attracted to her. Interaction should be kept to a minimum so as to minimize potential gossip and potential career-damaging tempation. Not to mention that their direct superior was sitting right there, watching this nascent rules violation with inscrutable eyes.

But Shepard looked so miserably uncomfortable at the idea of someone asking her to dance. Not just uncomfortable. There was something... sad in her expression. An answering punch of empathetic pain nailed him in the chest, lighting up his nerves in almost the same way as an eezo burn did.

_Ah, dammit. I'm going to make a complete ass of myself. Again. _ Kaidan took a deep breath and made his leap of faith. "Incoming potential hostile, ma'am." He gestured over his shoulder to the young marine just now making his way up the stairs, and then drew himself up into the same regimented posture he used when making a report on board ship. "I would normally recommend a refusal to negotiate with the potential hostile in this circumstance, commander, but I get the feeling you don't want to hurt Chief Williams' feelings. Therefore, my tactical analysis is to recommend an evasive maneuver."

Shepard just looked at him. He wished he could read her expression with any degree of certainty. "Lieutenant, are you asking me to dance?"

Kaidan ignored the little thrill that rippled down his spine at the thought. "No, ma'am. I am recommending a battlefield maneuver for which the optimal team complement is two. I would never ask a superior officer to dance. It's strictly against regulations. However, our shore team options are pretty limited, unless the captain wants to step in." He really hoped the captain wanted to step in.

The captain snorted, amusement writ large on his weathered face; Kaidan wasn't sure if the amusement came from either his tactical analysis or the idea of getting down on the dance floor. "You clearly haven't seen Shepard dance, lieutenant. I'm sitting this one out. I'm too damn old for that shit." Anderson chomped on another nacho, chips and cheese crunching noisily between his teeth. "You trained as a Sentinel, didn't you, son?"

Kaidan knew that the captain knew his dossier backward and forward, but he answered anyway. "Ah... yes, sir."

"It shows." The captain's chuckle was a low rumble of sound. "Protect your CO at all costs. Good to know the training took so well." He clapped Shepard on the shoulder with one large hand. "Go on, child."

"What are you up to, Anderson?" Shepard narrowed her eyes at the older man. Kaidan was glad she wasn't turning that look on him. It was a little... daunting.

'Me? I'm having nachos. Pretty good." The captain chewed thoughtfully. "I'll have to tell Doran he did a decent job."

"Captain..."

Anderson only grinned at her. "Dance, commander. That's an order."

Kaidan watched the commander's jaw clench, her full, soft mouth compressing to a firm line. He stood, feeling like he was the first one out of the gate for a high altitude tactical drop, his dress blues shrinkwrapping around him until he felt like moving might rupture something. "Ma'am?"

When she turned to look at him with those dark eyes, Kaidan felt that punch in his gut all over again. "All right, lieutenant," Shepard muttered. "Let's get this over with. Deployment time." She took the hand he offered; a tiny spark leapt off his fingers as soon as they touched hers.

Kaidan wanted to wince. _Yeah. This is such a bad idea._


End file.
